


Two Princes

by Emmaculate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmaculate/pseuds/Emmaculate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are teenage princes from neighboring kingdoms who are trying to make bonds. Prince Sherlock is being set up with Princess Monica, when in truth his eyes are for the Princess' brother, Prince John. They share many conversations about mysteries and Prince John's infatuation with writing tales of his mystery work and sharing it with the townsfolk. But as their relationship develops romantically, so does Sherlock's forced relationship with the Princess. And they can't look too gay in front of anyone else. Keeping up a heterosexual appearance is quite hard for a prince. Until several unexpected events occur and Sherlock and John must make a decision that could change the fate of both kingdoms and their own lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
“Your Majesty?” Brock knocked on the Prince’s door. “Your mother the Queen requests you in her presence.”  
Sherlock tenderly sat down his violin, scribbled a few more notes on the blank score paper in front of him, and followed his butler out the door. His mother’s voice greeted him as he entered the Great Room:  
“Son, I have some news from your father-”  
“Then why didn’t he tell me himself?” Sherlock growled, a tick in his hands resolved by the repetitive fixing of his cufflinks.  
“Sherlock, you know he is busy. Regardless, he would like you to know that the royal family from Elfrasia will be visiting. And they will have a princess in their company…”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. Now that he was 18, the Queen was attempting to gently push him towards an inter-kingdom relationship - though he knew it was out of her motherly love, he also knew that it was his father wanting to simply improve relationships with the kingdom.  
“Alright,” his teeth were clenched. “When will they arrive?”  
“I believe in an hour or so. I’d like you to adorn your best suit - it is important to make an impression.” the Queen looked analytically at his unruly curly hair. “And have one of the maids do something with that mop of hair on top of your head.”  
Sherlock frowned and ran a hand through it. He didn’t think it was particularly messy - but it was the Queen’s orders.  
When he returned to his quarters, a maid was already waiting for him. Silently, his hair was tamed and his suit pressed to perfection, shoes shined with precision to the King’s liking. Before he knew it, Sherlock was sent downstairs and was waiting picturesquely with his mother and rarely seen father.  
Brock stood before the entrance doors and cleared his throat. “Presenting to the royal family of Anaspesia...the royal family of Elfrasia, the King, the Queen, the Princess and the Prince..”  
Sherlock and his family stepped up to greet the visitors as they entered the palace.  
“Phoebe,” Queen Gabri kissed the other woman on the cheeks and smiled. The visiting King Chandler and King Ross shook hands. Princess Monica’s blinding smile accompanied a grand curtsy while Sherlock smiled tightly.  
And then there was Prince John.  
He was short, shorter than Prince Sherlock himself, but his attractiveness was undeniable. Sherlock was drawn by the distance of Prince John, and Prince John seemed to gain a similar shocked look of intensity.  
Suddenly, a hand was in front of him, and Sherlock blinked rapidly, looking at the hand’s owner.  
“I- I’m sorry?” he stammered.  
“I said, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Princess Monica grinned. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She batted her eyelashes, but it made no effect on Sherlock. He simply put on a face molded by his mother’s teaching and proceeded conversation with the 17-year old princess. Every time he paused, but his mother always subconsciously gave him a small push towards more of a conversation.  
But the entire time, his mind was on the lovely Prince John, whose eyes Sherlock was sure were drifting away from his conversation with the Kings and towards the other prince. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

As soon as the conversing families were called from the Great Room to the Dining Hall, Princess Monica looped her arm through the reluctant Sherlock’s and they made their way.  
They entered and found that the rest of the family and visitors already sitting around the table. Sherlock’s mother gave a nod of approval toward him - he pulled out a chair for the princess and sat down on the other side of her.  
And next to him was Prince John.  
“Ah, I do not believe that you two were acquainted,” Queen Phoebe smiled from directly across the oak table. “Prince Sherlock, this is my son, Prince John. He is 18 just as you are.” her accent was almost French.  
“Pleasure,” Prince John held out his hand.  
“The pleasure is all mine,” Sherlock awkwardly smiled, shook John’s hand and turned back to his meal.  
“So what do you occupy yourself with being in the big castle without a sibling such as my son and daughter?” King Ross asked conversationally.  
“I enjoy playing the violin,” Sherlock said.  
A silence of expectation filled the air in the room.  
“...I also enjoy horseback riding and solving mysteries.”  
“Ah, so does John! Though he doesn’t much have a person to discuss it with. Perhaps you two might strike up a conversation about it?” the King chuckled at this and nodded encouragingly at his son.  
And so they did.  
Even after the hopeful princess took her hand off of Sherlock’s bicep and left the room in an outwardly disappointed fashion, and dessert was served and consumed by the others present in the Dining Hall, their conversation continued.  
They soon moved to the Great Room, which had been adorned with chairs, loveseats, and small couches. The talkative princes sat in chairs opposite each other, Prince John choosing a laid back green one and Prince Sherlock choosing a leathery geometrical one.  
Unfortunately, their conversation was in for a rude awakening as a man older than Sherlock, but younger than both Kings, entered through the doors.  
“And who is this?” Princess Monica asked, standing up and greeting the man with a glint of interest in her eyes.  
“Mycroft.” the stiff man said, brushing past the princess as if she were no more than a peasant.  
“Mycroft?”  
“Yes, yes, my son,” the King said, surprise and embarrassment filling his voice. “We were not expecting you, son.”  
“So you do have another one!” Queen Gabri exclaimed, smiling at her host King and Queen.  
“Another one?” Mycroft said, if not mockingly. “Oh no, I do not consider myself their son any longer. I have devoted myself to my occupancy.”  
“Which is…?” King Chandler prodded, but Mycroft had already disappeared up the spiral staircase.  
“Well, I believe my...son...has made a point. It is getting quite late.” the King sighed and set down his drink.  
“I do hate to leave our conversation like this,” John said, reluctantly standing from his chair.  
“Tomorrow, I shall bring a few of my own mysteries down.”  
“You mean ones you’ve handwritten?”  
“Yes, yes, it does take up a good deal of time and is always quite riveting even though you feel you know what is going to happen.” Sherlock fixed his cufflinks again as he stared into the eyes of Prince John.  
“Shall you bring some paper as well? Perhaps we could write one together.” Prince John smiled at the thought and Sherlock looked away, cheeks barely reddening before he gained back his confidence.  
“What a grand idea!” the Queens both came over. “Now, though, shall be your resting time. I will have one of our maids show you to the guest quarters and where they’ve arranged your belongings that you brought. Come along now.”  
Just as the visiting prince was disappearing up beyond the balcony of the stairs, Sherlock called out, “Prince John!”  
The boy appeared tantalizingly above him, head peeking over the metal bar.  
“It was nice talking with you!”  
“I do hope we can do it again.” With that, Prince John disappeared into the maze of corridors, unfortunately not to be seen again until the next morning. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sleepy Prince John was even better looking than before.  
Sherlock couldn’t stop glancing over at him as they all discussed the fantastic-ly cooked quail they all had been given for breakfast. His rumpled hair and hastily put on sweater was quite nice looking. But he really did need to stop looking over there - he would get to see him later either way.  
That evening, just as he had gotten in his room, he’d gathered his worn copies of his most adored mystery novels and set it down with numerous sheets of paper, two quills, and a bottle of ink.  
Sherlock quickly made note of the moment everyone had eaten his last bite. At that precise moment he stood up quite suddenly and, without a word, made his way to the Great Room. He hoped to have everything set out before Prince John arrived - but he was stopped by his mother.  
She cleared her throat loudly, and Sherlock turned around. “I had Mathilda and Baroness brushed for you. I thought that you and the Princess might like to go for a ride?”  
The Prince had to force himself not to roll his eyes, so instead he gritted his teeth into a smile. “Alright then. I’ll go prepare the riding gear. Princess Monica, I shall meet you outside momentarily.”  
He stormed away.  
It was not that he was angry he had to go for a ride with the Princess, no. She was nice enough, if but a little giddy. Either way, he was more angry he had to give up the time he was going to spend writing a mystery story with Prince John, and he was afraid his mother had known that.  
Well, of course she had. She was his mother - what was he to expect?  
As soon as he got to the stables and brought out Mathilda, he noticed a figure on one of the rolling hills leading from the castle to the stables: the princess. She’d taken the long way, unaware of the easy path from within the castle. He attempted to signal to her to turn around, but it was no use.  
Poor Princess Monica had finally arrived at the stables, breathing heavily. “Why is it so...so far...from the palace?”  
“If you had asked a palace guard, they would have told you that there’s a path here from one of the corridors,” Prince Sherlock said bluntly.  
“Well, perhaps I’ll have to use that information for a future ride,” Monica grinned.  
Sherlock simply nodded his head and mounted Mathilda with ease. “That’s Baroness,” he motioned to the dappled gray waiting anxiously for a rider. “She’s already been brushed and the saddle is hanging next to her.”  
Princess Monica frowned. “You want me to get her out?”  
“Yes. I presume you are capable.”  
“Er...well...alright, then,” the Princess lifted her dress absurdly high, practically above her knees. She cringed and tiptoed through fallen hey to the horse, then unhinged Baroness from the stall. Her delicate hands and arms seemed to struggle with the saddle as she attempted to buckle it to the horse.  
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Sherlock leapt off his horse, snatched the saddle out of Monica’s hand, adjusted it on the horse and lifted the girl on to the horse.  
“Why thank you, Prince Sherlock...your hands are so strong…”  
“Yes, well…” he did not finish his sentence. “Just come along now.”  
“Actually,” Her once again giggly voice was met by an eye roll from Prince Sherlock. “I don’t know how to ride. Won’t you teach me?”  
Sherlock’s eyes flitted back to the palace, then back to the horses in front of him.  
“What?” the Princess said mockingly. “What’s back there that’s better than you and me out here? My brother?”  
Sherlock blinked twice in a row, his cheeks reddening. “What would make you think that?” he snapped.  
“Goodness, I meant nothing of it!” the Princess wobbled a little on her saddle before Sherlock steadied her. “That’s the response I’d expect from any sane person in the first place. He’s always locked up in his room writing strange little tales of what he does with his mystery novels in the palace. And you’ll never believe what he does! He hands them out to the townsfolk! I mean, can you believe it?”  
“No,” Sherlock said. But it was most definitely not in the way that the Princess would have thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Much to the contentedness of Prince Sherlock, he and the princess finally dismounted their horses. The lesson turned out just as gruelling as the Prince had thought it would be. Princess Monica was so utterly horrible at horse-riding he could swear that she was feigning the stupidity so as to appear...well, the Prince did not know exactly what it was.  
He was only glad that he was in his much preferred black trenchcoat and pants. And he was in the company of Prince John.   
Their conversation continued like it had never stopped. After some time, Sherlock brought up the speakings of Princess Monica, but Prince John only laughed.   
“Yes, she does not appreciate my reclusivity one bit. Though it is true - I entertain the townsfolk by writing short narratives about mysteries I wish I could adventure on.” Prince John then took notice of the paper and quills.   
“Well, I did gather some materials just last ni- er...I mean as I came in from the ride with your sister,” Sherlock nervously fixed his cufflinks.   
“Alright, then, let’s write...a mystery...together,” John’s nose twitched slightly as he stammered his sentence.   
“Yes, let’s,” Prince Sherlock released his cufflinks and reached for the paper - Prince John did as well. There fingers brushed and it felt as though a bolt of electricity had flew through between their fingers.   
Both princes blushed deeply and retracted their hands.  
"You can...I mean..." John started.   
"I wasn't - well, no you-" Sherlock was cut off by the entrance of his father.  
"Ah, hello boys! What are you- oh, why are your faces all red? Are you two running a fever?"  
Sherlock and John both stepped hastily away from each other the moment the footsteps had entered the room. Prince Sherlock immediately shook his head.   
"Er...no, Father, we're - I'm fine, it was just...we were..."  
"Still nervous over your budding love with the princess?" the King winked.   
"Something like that..." Sherlock's voice trailed off as he took an eye for Prince John who had noticed what Prince Sherlock had mumbled.   
"We're just writing a mystery, sir. Thanks to the provisions from your lovely Prin- er, Queen. Wife. Host..."  
Prince Sherlock's ears quickly caught the complimentary, out-of-place adjective from the other Prince and his cheeks reddened even deeper, if possible. He pressed his slightly sweaty hands to his face in attempt to lessen the blush, but it was no use. Thus, he simply bowed his head so as to avoid the gaze of the other occupants in the room.   
"Well, then in that case I'll leave you two be. Can't interrupt a good mystery!" the King chuckled at his own comment and left the room.   
John scratched the back of his head awkwardly.   
"Sorry about him," Sherlock apologized. "He's usually not around at all when there's nobody else here. But now that you and your family are here he's a lot more...conversational."  
"My father's the same, though you'd never know it from the looks of him," the conversation relaxed slightly and they both sat in their respective chairs, the ones they'd chosen the previous night.   
"Is it like that with all kings who have offspring?" Sherlock smiled, once again awkwardly, at his painful attempt at a joke.   
"No, I presume just sons. He's always discussing things with my sister and always neglecting my ideas."  
"Do you ever find that your father will once in a while listen to your ideas and then just completely throw them aside?" John asked. Sherlock nodded in response. "Or," Prince John continued. "We could stop complaining about our fathers and write this aforementioned mystery."  
"Ah, that's just it!" Sherlock leaped to his feet and grabbed the quills and paper. "We'll write a story about fathers who do that but...but they're really sending the ideas that their sons say to provide information to a rival kingdom so that the rivals can kidnap them..."  
"...and the kings are really assassins from the kingdom who killed the original kings to gain access to the princes!" Prince John finished  
"But where is the mystery?" Prince Sherlock asked.   
"I suppose that's true. The plot is strong but the mystery..."  
"What if...what if the princes turn into allies who try to discover if the original kings are still alive and how to rid of the imposters?" Sherlock said thoughtfully, twiddling the crow black feather between his fingers.   
"What sort of alliance? A bond, are you suggesting?" John's deep brown eyes looked upward in a manner of contemplation.  
"Perhaps they're in love?" Sherlock said. John blinked rapidly and looked at Sherlock with a strange sheen of wonder in his eyes.   
"Are you saying..." he started, but Sherlock cut him off. He immediately stood up and began gathering the paper and such.   
"Um, I'm truly sorry, but I just remembered something I have to do...very soon. Immediately. And I must go, it's very-" his throat constricted slightly as he felt a hand wrappping around his wrist. He turned, expecting it to gain the reprimanding tightness of his father, but instead he found Prince John there. His hand was firm and warm, and it was clenched tenderly but in a pleading manner around Prince Sherlock's wrist.   
"Please stay."   
"I can't-"  
"Well of course you can. I didn't mean anything by what I said just now. I understand it was only an idea you had for the characters' bonding, correct?" John had a look in his eyes that was desperately hard for Sherlock to deny to. "I think we were getting quite far...we could start writing just about now. Just please stay..."  
Prince John did the thing where he scratched the backside of his neck in the midst of a tense silence. But Sherlock was so utterly infatuated with the visiting prince that he felt it completely necessary to talk with him a little longer.   
"Alright. Perhaps I will."  
And John, without thinking and much to Sherlock's pleasure, slowly pried the materials loose from Prince Sherlock's hands and set them neatly back down upon the coffee table. His hands lingered in an empty spot for a moment too long and their eyes met - but only briefly. He quickly pulled his hands away.   
"Sorry, just thought there was a..another quill there."  
"Completely fine. It happens all the time - I rather appreciate it when people check for me," Sherlock blurred the sentences together a bit too quickly and another silence filled the room.   
Yet soon, the two were writing, switching roles of storyteller to inscriber every so often.   
And every so often, their fingers would brush or their eyes would meet and that electricity rippled through the room again...it was like nothing either prince had ever felt before...


	5. Chapter 5

Two days. They continued their story writing and hand touching for two days without bother from much anyone.  
Of course, the two princes had their typical obligations - meals, sleep, recreation. But in between everything, there was not a moment wasted. They were writing word after word after word together, inscribing a story upon the thick paper like no other. They ended up making the princes long lost brothers, but Prince Sherlock's idea of the two princes being lovers was still hanging in the air, still tuning gears in each prince's head.  
It seemed that Princess Monica had lost her immediate interest in Sherlock, much to the content of both princes. It was cause for even less interruption and more time together.  
As they were writing the the last chapter, their hands seem to brush together in a less than accidental manner multiple times. When Prince Sherlock was writing, Prince John would reach his hands forward to adjust the paper - wherein, when Prince John was writing, Prince Sherlock would play with his cufflinks, and then revert to setting his hands quite near Prince John's.  
They both noticed the other's actions but made no verbal note of it - just let it happen.  
Finally, Prince John felt the need to say something, "I do quite like how this story is turning out.”  
"As do I," Sherlock's words were delayed seeing as he was working intensely upon the writing. John found Sherlock's face quite enticing. His lips parted slightly when he was focused, and his eyebrows clenched slightly. And his eyes - his eyes were a gorgeous indescribable glowing white-blue colour that seemed to change intensity with each word written on the paper.  
"There," Sherlock set his quill back down into the ink bottle with a satisfying plink and he leaned back in his chair.  
"Did you finish?" Prince John moved to pick up the paper.  
"Yes, it's complete just the way we want it," Sherlock smiled.  
"I suppose I never would have gotten around to writing a real mystery without some encouragement from someone like you," John soon realized how his sentence sounded. "I mean, a friendly encouragement...of course."  
Sherlock nodded quickly and stood up - at the same time John did. They both turned to move around the table and they both collided at the end of the turn.  
"Oh goodness,"  
"I'm sorry, I apologize, I-"  
"No, no, it's my fault, I really-"  
They were both looking at their feet at that time, and then they looked up. Their noses were inches apart, and there was a spark of electricity again. Sherlock looked at John's face and John looked at Sherlock's. His eyes traveled down Prince Sherlock's face and to his perfectly sculpted lips. Their hands lingered near the other's, feeling the body heat from each other.  
John leaned forward slightly, his eyes half-closed, but Sherlock retreated. He turned his head downward again and looked away, fiddling with his cufflinks again.  
"I...I will go ask a maid for some string so we can bind the pages," he said quickly walking away. Prince John sighed, shaking his head and putting his hand to his forehead.  
Later on, after the book was bound, the families were eating dinner together.  
"I believe our family will be leaving at the end of this week," the visiting King said.  
"Oh, that's a shame," Princess Monica pouted. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk with Mycroft at all yet!"  
"Good luck with that," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.  
"What was that, son?" the Queen gave her son a daunting look.  
"Nothing, Mother. Just that...I agree with the Princess," Sherlock started.  
"Oh, yes, I did notice that you two have been spending a lot of time together. What have you been up to?" Sherlock's father asked.  
“Writing a mystery, as we've told you before," John said a bit too quickly.  
"John! Manners!" Prince John's mother snapped. He wilted a bit.  
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said to Prince Sherlock's father. "I was simply-”  
"Stating the facts, I know!" the King chortled. "It's alright, Phoebe, I witnessed he and my own son writing the mystery. It was might fault for asking a question I already knew the answer to!"  
The conversation continued like this; great amounts of silence filled the spaces between every changed subject. Sherlock and John kept glancing at one another, sure that the other wasn't looking - but truly, they each felt the heart racing presence of the other throughout the entire dinner.  
As they all cleared out of the dining hall, Princess Monica raced to search for Mycroft while the Kings and Queens wandered off to talk to each other in the Great Room. Prince Sherlock and Prince John were left to their own unassuming devices. They couldn't go to the Great Room to talk - discussing the negative aspects of their parents was only meant for their ears, and especially not those of their parents. They debated going to Sherlock's room, but he convinced John that it was much too bland and there would not be anything to do.  
So they ended up going out into the gardens - ironically, it was the lengthy stretch of land that the naive Princess Monica had sprinted across to reach the stables. Prince John laughed heartily at Prince Sherlock's retelling of the incident, and Sherlock realized how contagiously fantastic Prince John's laugh was. He blushed as he thought this.   
They talked, walking amongst honey bees. At one point, a butterfly landed on Sherlock's nose, and his astonished look caused Prince John to burst into his magical laughter again. Sherlock smiled as well.   
"So you're really ready to leave the palace? What about your mother? She's already lost Mycroft, so to speak, so why are you leaving?" Prince John asked as they stopped by a freshly tended to garden bed.   
"I can't stay. There's just too much I don't have a say in. I can't choose what I do with my hair, or what I wear or what I eat for dinner. It's all done for me - and something about that is simply unappealing to me. It always has been," Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and stopped walking - yet Prince John did not notice. When he turned around, Sherlock had knelt down and was smelling a flower.   
"What's that you're doing?" John asked, walking back over.   
"Ju- Just smelling a rose. I've always loved roses. But no matter - you're here, so we should continue walking instead of smelling silly little flowers" Sherlock said. He stood and brushed himself off, obviously embarrassed that he had been caught in such a private moment.   
"Sorry if my presence here is bother. I can always go back to the palace and wait to talk to you tomorrow..." Prince John started to walk away.   
"John, wait!" Prince Sherlock called. "Oh...sorry, Prince John, I mean." John stopped and turned around.   
"John...er, John is fine. Fine with me I mean. If you want to call me that."  
"It's not," Sherlock said, stepping hesitantly closer to John.   
"What?" John was confused now.   
"Your presence. It's not a bother. I quite like it. Actually." Sherlock played with his cufflinks, fiddling with them. and twisting them around.   
It was John's turn to step closer to Sherlock now. He reached forward and pulled Sherlock's hands away from the cufflinks. He didn't let go.   
"What are you-" Sherlock started, but John cut him off.   
“Do you have eyes for my sister? The princess?” John asked quite out-of-the-blue.   
“N-no. No I don’t. Not for any princess,” Sherlock blurted. He quickly tried to retract what he said. “I mean...not for-”  
“I’m the same way,” John said, his cheeks redenning. His hands still had not let go of Sherlock’s. Before he knew it, Sherlock was pulling John toward him, quite closely. They looked into each other’s eyes.   
Sherlock’s mouth parted. “I know.”   
His head tilted forward in sync with John’s.  
And their lips met.  
It was warm and softer than Sherlock had expected. They broke away for a breath and he began to say something, but John cut him off, their mouths colliding again.   
Interlocking tongues, sweet remnants of dessert still lingering on their breath, caressing lips. Hands. John’s hands gripped Sherlock’s perfectly scuplted cheekbones and Sherlock’s held tightly to John’s surprisingly strong arms.   
They stopped kissing after a while and stood there, holding each other, foreheads touching. Not saying a word.   
Because there was nothing to be said. For once the silence was perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

They walked back to the palace hand in hand, their lips rich with the taste of the other's mouth. The tips of Sherlock's fingers tingled from where they had dipped beneath John's shirt to fondle his abdomen. John felt radioactive.  
Their grip broke as they approached the fire-lit stone pathway to the castle entrance.   
"I suppose this is goodbye. For now, that is," Sherlock was almost sorrowful. It made John want to laugh and cry and kiss him all at once.   
"Until tomorrow, that is," John said. He was pulled into the shadows for one last kiss that lingered as Sherlock scampered up the steps, dusting himself off and smoothing his hair. John walked around to the guest's entrance and quietly entered.   
Meanwhile, Sherlock was being chastised by his mother. "Are you insane?" Queen Gabri had tears running down her face, ones that made Sherlock cringe with guilt. "I was searching for you everywhere! I hadn't an idea where you were, we all assumed you and Prince John would follow us into the Great Room! Then we presumed you'd gone to your bedroom to continue writing that silly mystery novel, but no! No, you were out in the gardens discussing it! And at this time of night? There could have been attackers!"  
It was true, Sherlock admitted this to himself. There was a definite rise in the attacker level in the past month. People who attacked the palace because they despised his father and his decisions.   
"My deepest apologies, Mother," Sherlock said, bowing his head.   
"You'll stay sorry for the rest of the night, too. To you bedroom for the rest of the night!" And Sherlock was, in fact, condemned through those words to his bedroom.   
It was only 8:00pm when he arrived. He typically stayed up until at least 11 with Prince John, writing and talking. And now he'd gone and left his writing things downstairs, along with the mystery books he'd never gotten around to showing the Prince because they'd been slightly more busy that evening than they had planned.   
Now he had not a thing to do, and found it fit to adorn his pajamas and climb into bed. But as he pulled the covers up to his chin, he realized he most likely wouldn't get a wink of sleep. So he crawled out of bed and onto his balcony.   
He leaned out over the edge and admired the gardens where unforgettable moments had been created. John was standing there, wandering around.   
"John?" Sherlock's voice was but a whisper.   
He called louder. "Prince John, is that you?"   
The short prince whirled to face Sherlock's balcony.   
"What are you doing awake?" he yelled up with a chuckle.   
"I might ask the same of you!" Sherlock smiled. Their love may have been fast - but it was true. He could hear it and feel it in every exchanged sentence that escaped their mouths.   
"Couldn't get a wink of sleep, not after our walk in the gardens..." John's voice was quiet this time, but it was at the perfect volume for the prince in the sky to hear without the danger of the guards making their rounds to hear anything.   
"I agree unconditionally. Might-" Sherlock gasped, turning around. John heard a feminine voice fill the room. It was John's sister. He rolled his eyes and sighed as Sherlock reluctantly shut the large glass-windowed doors behind him.   
***************************  
"Oh, Prince Sherlock!" the princess's voice sang. "I saw your light on when I was going to the loo and wanted to know what you were doing up this late!" she giggled. Sherlock frowned.   
"Er...I was reading."  
"But what were you doing out there?" she motioned to the balcony, the wind still carrying the secretly affectionate words of the princes through the air outside.   
Sherlock longed to join them.   
"What were you doing?" the princess repeated.   
"Enjoying the moon. Have you seen it?"  
Their conversation continued, dull as this. Merely one sentenced, awkward silences filled with utterly obnoxious giggles and a few steps from prim princess feet that neared a bit too close to Prince Sherlock.   
Something was missing from the conversation. And Sherlock knew precisely what it was.   
It was John.   
And his words were gone. Little did Sherlock know, they'd be gone for a long time - separated by the strong hand of a father and the loving force of a mother. And the distance of two kingdoms.


End file.
